Earn This
by PhoenixFire55
Summary: Ryan, Reiben, and Upham, sixty-five years after the mission.
1. Private Ryan

"_Earn this, James…"_

Private Ryan stood up shakily, seeing Captain Miller's motionless hand resting peacefully for the second time in his life.

As the memory faded from his mind, Ryan eyes shifted into focus. Slowly, the white cross came into view.

_ John H. Miller_

_ Captain 2__nd__ Ranger Battalion Company C_

_ Pennsylvania 1909_

"To be honest with you, I wasn't sure how I would feel coming back here," he told the cross.

He lifted his heavy head and slowly took everything in. The trees, the crosses…

… the beach.

Had it really been sixty-five years? It felt like only a few seconds had passed since Miller had whispered his last words in his ear.

"Every day, I think about what you said to me that day on the bridge," he spoke again.

It was interesting, really, how Normandy was like the bookends of his life. He had come here once as a young man, in the early years of his life, and now, as an old man, in the final years of his life.

This was it. Private Ryan knew he would never be able to make the trip to Normandy again. If he had something to say to Miller, he would have to say it now.

"I've tried to live my life the best I could. I hope that was enough. I hope that at least in your eyes, I've earned what all of you have done for me," he said shakily.

He took one last look at the white cross as his wife came up from behind him.

He felt a pang in his heart, knowing that this would be the last time he would ever see the long line of crosses on the Normandy coast.

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**I am planning on writing three chapters for this story- one on Ryan, one on Reiben, and one on Upham.**

**Please Review!**


	2. Private Reiben

_Daniel B. Jackson_

_PFC 2__nd__ Ranger Battalion Company C_

_ Tennessee 1921_

Private Reiben stared angrily at the cold stone. He would have gladly died if it meant that his old friend would rise from the hard ground. It's not like Reiben was doing much of anything with his life these days, anyway.

This thought only lead him to think of the piles of bones and long-decomposed bodies underneath the other crosses. But what was under _his_ feet? In his mind, a bell tower erupted into a volcano of flame. What had the medics found? Two pieces of metal clinking together as they fell through the air?

Reiben vaguely wondered if Jackson's dog tags were under there. He shook his head as he entertained the wild thought of digging up the grave to check.

Reiben thought about it. He didn't really care if he got caught, nothing really mattered to him anymore. But what if there wasn't anything under there? Did he really want to disturb his comrade's final resting place?

Reiben glanced up at the other crosses. He could just make out a familiar face staring at a grave he had visited often.

So Ryan was visiting Miller's grave, huh? Reiben shook his head, disgusted. He saw a group of people standing behind Ryan. His family? Reiben looked behind himself. No one.

He had married a few times, sure. But his anger over what had happened sixty-five years ago had brought on a pattern of divorces. It didn't matter, though. He just couldn't find anyone who understood him like his comrades had. He longed for someone to call him Reiben again. Just once more. All he ever heard now was Richard. It had been sixty-five years since he had been called Reiben.

He angrily looked away from Ryan. He lived his whole life, then decided to come pay his respects to the Captain who had died rescuing him? Reiben had forgotten how many times he had come here. Whenever he broke down and fell prisoner to the memories, he came back to Normandy. Back to the beach. Back to the beginning of the mission that destroyed the best damn squad in the army.

And what about the rest of the squad? Jackson, Mellish, Caparzo, Horvath, and Wade had all died rescuing Ryan. Why didn't he visit their graves? Because he was an asshole, that's why. Reiben had known it the minute he heard about the mission. Private Ryan was an asshole.

Reiben hated a lot of people. But there was no one that Reiben hated more than Private Ryan. They had all risked their lives for him, six of them had died for him, and the kid just runs off and makes the most of the life they were denied, barely even giving them a second thought.

"Was it worth it, Miller? Did you get you're longer-lasting light bulb?" Reiben whispered bitterly to the wind. He pushed away the guilty feeling that rose in his chest. Why was he blaming Miller? It was Ryan's fault.

Reiben stared down at the cross once more. And then the worst possible thought crossed his mind.

Had they found his cross?

Had it been destroyed in the explosion, or had someone found it?

And for the millionth time Reiben wondered where Jackson was now.

Reiben had never been very religious, so as he looked to the sky he wondered if there really was a Heaven. Was Jackson up there, watching from the stars? Or was he just a memory? As Reiben looked back at the cross, he could only know one thing for sure. Jackson wasn't under that cross. There was nothing under that white cross, just cold, hard earth.

And maybe some dog tags.


	3. Corporal Upham

Upham walked through the long line of crosses, thinking about his life. As soon as the war had ended, things had started looking up. In 1954 he finally published his book.

Now, sixty-five years after the war, he felt at peace with the world.

He had asked his family not to come with him; he needed to do this alone.

As he walked on, he thought about Reiben. Upham had seen him once, a year after the war ended. He wanted to interview Reiben for his book. Upham spent hours searching for Reiben's phone number. When he finally called, no one answered. Upham continued trying to contact Reiben for about a month. Eventually he decided to take a trip to New York City.

"Upchuck?" Reiben had declared upon opening the door.

"Reiben?"

A smile worked its way across Reiben's face. Upham grinned right back and explained that he was writing a book. Reiben took him right up to his messy apartment where they talked for hours, replaying the whole mission. Some parts would cause them to stare forlornly out the window, trying to hold back tears, while other parts had them howling with laughter.

Upham had finally left, having written page upon page of notes for his book. He gave Reiben his address as walked out the door, promising to send him a copy of the book as soon as it was finished.

"See ya around, Upchuck," Reiben had said as he closed the door, a smile on his face.

Upham hadn't seen him since.

He had tried, over the years, to contact him, but Richard Reiben had all but disappeared to the world after the war. A number of times Upham had found an address for a Richard Reiben in New York, but they changed constantly. Every door was answered by a woman who would sympathetically inform Upham that Reiben no longer lived there.

He took a deep breath as he weaved his way through the graves. All too soon, he was in front of Caparzo's grave.

"_Drop dead, Corporal."_

"Hey, Caparzo," he spoke quietly. "I-I don't… know what to say." He took a deep breath.

"Sixty-five years. Can you believe it? I know this will be my last trip… I just don't know how to say good-bye. Except I guess it's too late for that, huh?" He paused as the memories overcame him.

"It really does feel like yesterday that I was walking beside you guys," he continued. Upham talked for a while longer, telling Caparzo all about his book.

"I…I know you didn't want me to salute the Captain, but… I hope you don't mind if I salute you," Upham whispered hoarsely, feeling close to tears. He performed the perfect military salute, gulping as he whispered good-bye.

He slowly turned, knowing he would never come back to this grave again.

"_Corporal, what's your book about?"_

Upham nearly broke down when he got to Wade's cross. Images of his slow death passed before Upham's eyes as he stared down at the white cross.

"Wade… I… hey," Upham said. "I finished my book. I even got a movie deal." Upham told Wade everything, the whole story. He felt that if anyone would listen to his rambling stories, it was Wade. He proudly saluted Wade before traveling on.

It began drizzling lightly as Upham stopped at another white cross.

"_Again, Upham… to be honest, I find myself curiously aroused by you."_

"…Mellish…" This was the hardest grave for Upham. "I…I'm sorry… I was scared. I tried to be Johnny-on-the-spot, but… I'm sorry. I just couldn't… couldn't… make it up the stairs… FUBAR, right? …You remember my book? Well, I finished it, and I got a movie deal. You're in it, man. You're a hero."

Upham gave the most emotional salute he had ever given. He felt a single salty tear run down his face as he lowered his hand.

_Any more songs like this, and the krauts won't have to shoot me. I'm just going to slit my own wrists!"_

Upham talked non-stop to Horvath. He just babbled on and on. Not because he had a lot to say, because the fast-talking kept him from crying.

He had never forgiven himself for collapsing on the stairs while Mellish was killed. It haunted him every night. He listened over and over again to the German shouting, to Mellish shouting back. And then the silence. He watched himself over and over again, hiding on the stairs.

And now, because of Upchuck the coward, Mellish was gone.

And he wasn't coming back.

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**I will be adding one more chapter to the story.**


	4. All That's Left

Finally, Upham saluted Horvath and continued on to Jackson's grave.

"_Hey, Upham! Careful you don't step in the bullshit."_

Upham walked with his head down, to hide the tears pouring down his face. As he approached Jackson's grave, he felt himself bump into something. He looked up and saw a man about his age staring back at him.

"Sorry," they both said roughly.

Upham almost walked away, but then he noticed something familiar about the man's voice. He couldn't quite place it.

"What did you say?" Upham asked quietly. The man looked confused.

"Sorry?" he said again.

"Never mind, sorry," Upham said. What was he thinking?

The man started to walk away, but stopped abruptly. He slowly turned around.

"You knew him, too?" he asked. Upham nodded. The man stared at Upham, as if he was waiting for something. Upham didn't know what he wanted. After a few moments of silence, the man turned and began walking away again.

"_You're a strange bird, Upham."_

"Reiben!" Upham shouted, finally understanding. The man turned around, a familiar devil-may-care smile exploding across his face. What Upham couldn't have known was that no one had seen that smile in sixty-five years.

As Reiben heard his name, a thousand memories of laughing with his comrades resurfaced in his mind.

"Finish your book, Upchuck?" Reiben asked. Upham grinned.

"Fifty-five years ago," he said. The smile on Reiben's face only got bigger as he shook his head.

"Fifty-five years, huh?" he sighed. "It's been a while."

"Sure has," Upham agreed.

As they stood in front of the grave of their fallen comrade, they caught the end of Ryan's sentence.

"I've tried to live my life the best I could. I hope that was enough. I hope that at least in your eyes, I've earned what all of you have done for me," he said shakily.

But how could that be enough? How could one good life be a fair exchange for six?

"How do you earn the lives of six men?" Upham asked quietly.

"… You don't," Reiben answered sadly.

A moment of silence passed between the two as memories of a perfect sniper shot, a fallen medic, an extra dose of morphine, an exploding bell tower, and a motionless hand passed in front of their eyes.

They stared at the beach as each remembered how a single prisoner had almost torn the squad apart.

"_I'm done with this mission."_

Upham stared at Reiben. Reiben had never really liked him, not until all of the other members of the squad were gone. Upham was all he had left. He thought back to the day they had taken the machine gun.

"Hey, Reiben?"

Reiben looked away from the beach and glanced at Upham.

"Yeah?"

"I was glad you stayed with us," Upham said quietly. "…We all were."

Reiben stared at Upham for a few minutes, squinted up at the sky, then looked back at Upham and nodded.

"Catch you on the other side, buddy," he said quietly before turning and walking away.

Upham nodded. He knew that if there was a Heaven, he would be seeing his squad again shortly. He turned to walk away in the direction he had come from.

"Hey, Upchuck!"

Upham turned around again.

"Yeah?" he called out to Reiben.

"What's your book called?"

Upham grinned.

"…Saving Private Ryan."

And as the sun beat down on a vast graveyard on the coast of Normandy, Reiben's last devil-may-care smile exploded across his face. That was because his smile wasn't for the world to see.

… It was for the seven bravest men Reiben had ever known.

"_What if by some miracle we stay, and actually make it out of here?"_

As Upham and Reiben walked away in separate directions, knowing they would never see each other again, they stared at the gravestones. Those used to be people. Living, breathing, people. But now they were nothing more than a memory.

This was all that was left.

"_Some day we might look back on this and decide that… saving Private Ryan was the one decent thing we were able to pull out of this whole, god-awful, shitty mess."_

Reiben and Upham could've sworn they heard it whispered on the wind.

"_We do that, we all earn the right to go home."_


End file.
